


New Favorite Memory

by badboy_fangirl



Category: Real Person Fiction, Vampire Diaries RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badboy_fangirl/pseuds/badboy_fangirl
Summary: Um, limo sex?





	New Favorite Memory

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Every story I wrote about NIan was written between December 2010 and January 2014. These are old and hold no bearing on how things actually were, are, or will be. I know Ian is married now, and I am not trying to be disrespectful. For all these years, I kept these stories locked on LiveJournal and protected, and it just occurred to me that these are just stories, and these are as much characters as any of the other fanfic I've ever written. It also represents a lot of my creative time and energy and I'm proud of these stories. So I'm posting them now, with the intent that others might enjoy them.

"You are absolutely  _insane_ ," she says, laughing around a kiss as they climb out of his rental car.  
  
"Your chariot awaits, m'dear," he responds, sweeping his arm towards the limousine that's parked outside his hotel. He tosses his keys to the valet and slips him a tip. "There's a suitcase in the trunk. Will you make sure it gets put in my room?" They've come straight from the airport, where he picked her up, and where she changed into her evening wear in a public restroom.  
  
"Yes, sir," the guy says, but he totally doesn't move towards the car as Ian expects him to do, instead, he pauses and literally gapes at Nina as she walks towards the stretch limo.   
  
She's wearing a strapless, nearly skirtless green and blue cocktail dress, so she's all gorgeous long limbs and with her hair swept up into a messy ponytail, her neck calls to a man's mouth and fingers. (Ian knows because both of his have already made visits.) So he doesn't blame the kid for staring.  
  
What he loves, though, is that she's completely unaware of it. It happens to him all the time, but he's constantly storing away these sort of moments, each one labeled a  _favorite memory_ , but tonight, in Toronto, after more than two weeks apart, he plans to make several dozen new favorites because they literally only have a 12-hour window before she goes back to Los Angeles.  
  
"Ian!" she calls. "Any day now, we're going to be late! Come on!"  
  
He and the valet exchange equally sheepish looks and a small chuckle. "Word to the wise, kid," he says, punching the guy's shoulder. "Never keep a lady waiting!"   
  
  
  


  
  
In the backseat (partition up, music on, driver aware that he should not disturb them unless there is some sort of apocalyptic event), Ian starts messing with her instantly. Kissing her neck and ghosting his fingers over the expanse of thigh her dress has already made completely available.  
  
She puts up a half-hearted fight, slapping at his hand and leaning away from his mouth, but it's the breathless little whine as he drags his teeth over the tendon in her shoulder that lets him know he's going to get his way.  
  
"It's a thirty-minute drive across the city," he whispers. "We've got plenty of time."  
  
"Except that if you ruin my dress I'm going to look ridiculous on the red carpet. I've already got these horrible shoes that don't match because living out a suitcase sucks and I didn't have time to find my black strappies."  
  
She turns her head towards him, eyes somewhere between turned on and truly concerned about her outfit, and he presses his lips against hers gently. "I'll be extra,  _extra_  careful," he promises as he slides his hand up her skirt. Her eyelids flutter as his fingers find the edge of her panties and she whimpers just a little. "I've missed you, baby," he breathes and, with that, her hands dive into his hair. Their mouths fuse, tongues finding each other, the familiar and distinct flavor of Nina flooding through him and making him feel like a junkie finally getting his fix. (Which, let's face it, is what he is.)  
  
He loves that she likes to pretend he's the sex fiend, when really, she's just as into it as he is. Especially after  _fifteen_  days apart. Fifteen, guys. That's an age when you're as crazy in love with Nina Dobrev as Ian Somerhalder is.  
  
In an effort to not rip her dress or ruin the suddenly very charged mood, they both carefully work her skirt up her hips and then she swings her leg over his lap. She smiles far too knowingly when he can't stop the soft groan that escapes him as she settles over him. He's been half-hard all day in anticipation, and now, with only minutes to enjoy her, he's afraid he's barely going to get inside her before he _arrives_. She pulls a condom from her purse (because yeah, that saves on the mess, considering they're going to a public event - good thing they weren't relying on his brain power for that one), and when she sticks the little foil packet between her teeth for safe-keeping, he closes his eyes because he might not even get inside her at this rate.  
  
Her fingers are fumbling between them and she's laughing, and then he hears, "Fuck!" His jeans loosen slightly and the left-side suspender he's wearing snaps up and hits him in the throat. Opening his eyes, he looks down and sees what's left of the button loop in Nina's hand. "Oops?" she says, catching the condom in her free hand as it falls from her mouth. The chagrin in her expression is so delightful he can't be mad. (Favorite memory #2.)  
  
He does say however, "Remember how I mentioned that the suspenders were supposed to make this easy - no belt to get in the way, or hurt you?" He pulls the broken loop from her hand and drops it on the floor of the moving car. "Why didn't you just unbutton and unzip me?" They both look down at the bulge in the front of his pants as Nina scoots back just a little.  
  
"I don't know, I guess I wasn't thinking clearly," she says and her smokey voice does the same thing to him that it always does: makes him not give a flying fuck about anything but getting inside her.  
  
He slides a couple of fingers between her legs, pushing the lace of her thong aside so that he can stroke her at just the right, wet place. Her hands land on his shoulders and her fingernails dig into the fabric of his white shirt. "Why weren't you thinking clearly?" he asks, watching as her eyes roll back and her head drops backward on her shoulders.  
  
(She doesn't answer him in words, just in thin, helpless cries that let him know she's incredibly close and so perhaps it won't matter that he's going to go off like a randy teenager.)  
  
He leaves her wanting more, dragging his fingers up and over her clitoris so that she jumps and keens, her lower lip lodged firmly between her teeth as he whispers her name. She opens her eyes to look at him (memory #3), and never takes her gaze from his as she slowly and torturously undoes his pants, pulling him free.  
  
She fists him a few times just to drive him  _insane_  and then she brings the condom back to her lips and uses her teeth to tear it open.  
  
(Seriously, that's like favorite memory 4, 5, and 6 all at once and he can barely register them all.)  
  
She rolls the condom on him and then as she eases forward his hands grab at her hips roughly and she reminds him breathlessly, "My dress..."  
  
"Fuck the dress," he mutters and then he's inside her and she wraps her arms around his neck and he thinks she doesn't even care that he said that.  
  
So the whole show? Lasts like forty seconds tops, but they both get off, and somehow her dress isn't ruined. (His clothes, on the other hand, have come out so he looks like he's fashion retarded with only one suspender.)  
  
Nina laughs as she sits beside him, tying the condom off before placing it in garbage bag in the center console of the limo. "You won't look retarded--which is a totally un-PC term, I might add. You'll look fashion  _forward_." She grins at him as she lifts her hips and shimmies her dress back down to where it belongs. Then she leans over to kiss him. "Besides no one will care what you're wearing, they'll still scream and think you're hot and it won't matter. I, on the other hand, will get crucified for these awful shoes."  
  
She looks down at the offensive heels and sticks out her bottom lip in a mock pout. (Favorite memory #7.) "I love you," he says, which causes her eyes to jerk back to his face.  
  
She smiles, bigger and brighter than ever. "I love you, too." (Memory #8.)  
  
  


  
  
On the red carpet, he can't hear anything over the screaming fans. (He does love his job. Where in the world can you count on this kind of unconditional adulation? It's phenomenal.) The interviewer has to ask him twice because all he hears is a decibel just below what dogs can probably pick up, "Who are you most excited to see tonight?"  
  
He repeats it back to make sure he heard her right and his eyes stray to Nina, whose still got that same beatific smile radiating out towards him. She puts her hand over her heart and says, "Me," but he can't hear her at all, he just sees what she's saying because it's so hard to take his eyes off her to begin with.  
  
He turns his attention back at the interviewer and flashes his best suggestive grin. "Nina Dobrev."  
  
As they get inside the building and a handler takes them to their seats, Nina's slips her hand into his.  
  
(Favorite memory #9.)

**Author's Note:**

> [set during the MMVAwards in June 2011]


End file.
